Double-L for the '9-1
2001, that's for Trayvon
The young one, introduce like this
Right now I'm rollin' with you (What?)
In your car or in your walkman turned way up
But turned down as you talk, yet it doesn't make a difference
Either way I'm bein' heard, and that's more than I deserve
For simply playin' with some words, see I must remain humble
As well as unserved, phony rappers get deserved
When I play 'em to the curb
See, I take this serious (Uh)
A little more than sport, I take it just personal
Like when my register was short, I'm tryna make exact change in this rap game
And smack lames, rack brains, smack dames
Put Mid-City in the map, sprayin'
Stayin' true to the culture
Like writers who attack trains, Wildstyle Productions
Or maybe just to throw up, I'ma love hip-hop
Underground 'til I blow up and you know what? (What?)
I don't love nothin' else expect for y'all and my family
And my motherfuckin' self, it's like that, uh (What)
Move your body one time, if you're on your way to work
With some money on your mind, it's like this, what?
Move your body one time, if you're 'bout to see your girl
With some pussy on your mind, it's like that, what?
Move your body one time, if you're going to the moon
And everybody's feelin' fine, it's like this, what?
Move your body one time if you're feelin' Murs on the mic
Freestylin' rhymes, it's like that, uh
It's like that, what?
Now there's a lot of people out there that wanna bite my crew
Tryna follow in my footsteps
Do as Murs do, but with a lawyer and a shoulder bag, they couldn't pursue
These goals are such a fashion, with this passion
Now it's smashin' down my block (Rrr)
The little homie made me stop, wonderin' what he had to say
He heard some fools around his way, said "they could serve you with some poems"
I told him "Challe, holms, you need to kick back"
I mean what the fuck is that? Am I supposed to get nervous?
You know Murs is full service, consider this a gift wrap (Gift)
Now take this shit back to them fools on your block
And best they bounce from the studio, go back to servin' rocks (Hah)
They know they better off on the corner tryna slang
Than steppin' to this mic, against me and try to bang
Don't they know I got my name?
'Cause most of them Marks usually rhyme the same
I'ma find my metaphor so you can say they're freshly wrapped
When I expose 'em to the game
Frozen in this frame of mind, a work of art
So I'm posted up on walls instead of posted on the charts
I'm like Master P's the-ator for your CD player
And I said the-ator not theatre (I know that's ghetto, but fuck it)
I'ma be who I'ma be until it's time to kick the bucket
By the farm dirt map, become a worm dinner
Hopin' y'all up in heaven, come to terms with the syndicates, hell? (Shit...)
I never thought it for a second, it may be H-E-double-L
But it ain't for no Living Legend
And as for our session? (Huh)
Our apologies, but it's comin' to an end
I quit this rappin', click the cap on this motherfuckin' pen
(Ahhh...)
